Love's Fury
by Wicked-Roses
Summary: Response to 2nd Person Challenge on WIKTT. HGSS


Disclaimer:

On your way to Flourish and Blotts to purchase the latest Harry Potter Quidditch guide, you find an old rolled up scroll. You quickly bend down and pick it up. Upon unrolling it, you discover that it's blank. However, you remember Harry Potter's adventures with the Marauder's Map from his autobiography, _Harry Potter: Before and After Voldemort._

You take your wand, point it at the scroll, and say, "I solemnly swear that I will not sue Wild Rose, because I know that the Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling, her licensors, and her publishers, not Wild Rose."

Suddenly, words magically begin to appear on the scroll. 

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Moony: Ah, you figured out the password.

Prongs: Congratulations, but the words that we conceal so carefully will not be so easily revealed.

Wormtail: Yes, we are the keepers of a story that can only be shown to certain eyes, for it contains a pairing that not everyone agrees with.

Padfoot: At least some people have sense to know that the lovely Hermione shouldn't be with that greasy git. Why would she want him when she could have me?

Wild Rose: Oh, Padfoot, you know Sevvie's sexy. Who could resist that snarky Slytherin? I wonder what he looks like in just black silk boxers. 

Padfoot: Ah!!! Images!!!

Wild Rose: Now that I've punished Padfoot for remarking about my sexy Slytherin, it's time to ask you: Do you _agree with the pairing?_

A/N: This very short, one time fic is written in response to the 2nd person challenge on WIKTT. Hope you like it, Tegan.

Love's Fury

The serene quiet of the night was shattered by the piercing scream that escaped your mouth to resonate off the walls. Your heart pulsated rapidly as your chest erratically rose and fell. The adrenaline flowed like ice through your veins, causing you to shiver even in the warmth of your chambers. 

Sitting up, years of training shifted your sleep-clouded mind into sudden alertness, sweeping the room in search of your attacker. But none existed. Yet the fear lingered though you were assured of your safety, warning of and beckoning to the source.

Now, standing on the dew-laden grass in your evening attire, you questioned your insanity. You had no tangible evidence to warrant the taking of such a journey, and yet here you were ready to transform and blindly go wherever you were led. Though plagued by self-doubt, the fear was too real to readily reject the possible existence of danger.

The familiar tingling of your skin came first this time as stubbles of sleek ebony fur became visible and lengthened. Then the rearranging and reshaping of your bones proceeded with slight crackling. The final stage was your favorite. To feel the sinews and muscles remold to the new skeletal structure and strengthen was always intoxicating with its promise of inhuman power. 

The panther was a form you were well acquainted with. It held both defensive and offensive capabilities you had utilized in the past. A creature suitable for the circumstance of the adventure you were now undertaking. 

Launching yourself forward, you aimed for your destination: the Forbidden Forest. You followed no designated path, only giving chase to your mysterious enemy. As the sky disappeared behind the growing density of monstrous branches, your reliance on your nocturnal vision and feline grace increased. _Would you find this adversary, or were you chasing an imaginary foe?_

As if in response your mental query, your hypersensitive hearing caught the echo of indistinguishable voices in the distance. Encouraged, your pace intensified, as did your determination to satisfy the curiosity that burned within you. 

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Blood. Fresh blood.

The carnivorous instincts that the animal possessed identified the scent easily. Slowing yourself, you decided to approach as stealthily as possible, maintaining the element of surprise and allowing for assessment of the situation.

In a small clearing, a group of black-cloaked figures stood encircling a fallen comrade. 

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Death Eaters.

"Severus, you disappoint me." Voldemort said acridly. "I placed greater trust in you than that, but you will see the error of your ways. That will be the last lesson you _ever_ learn. Crucio!"

Severus lay withering on the ground with his shirt already removed and lacerations marring his back. 

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Severus...

The emotions churned inside you. Love, fury, abhorrence. A low growl escape you as you leapt at the nearest figure and tore into him, bounding back into the shelter of the forest before they even knew they were under attack. The mauled man stayed where he fell as the remaining prey struggled to organize themselves. You charged again, ripping out her throat and hiding. 

Spells and curses were cast randomly in all directions in a futile attempt to vanquish you, the ghostly demon. You could only smirk to yourself in perverse glee, thinking like a predator who knows the prey stands no chance. You stalked slowly in the shadows of the clearing and waited for one to make a mistake, giving you the opportunity for the kill.

You did note that Voldemort had Apparated, leaving his minions to you mercy, or lack there of. He was the only one of the group with the knowledge to get passed the weak Apparation wards in the depths of the Forbidden Forest. If he didn't mind sacrificing followers, you didn't mind depriving him of them. He had dared to harm Severus, and for that he would suffer.

One by one they dropped, only glimpsing a steak of black. When they were all wounded or dead, you checked each one to ensure they would no longer be an issue. Turning from the lifeless bodies, you immediately turned to where Severus had fallen. 

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Voldemort, you bastard. Please, God, don't let him die. 

His chest was covered with black and blue bruises, probably resulting from numerous broken ribs. His breath was ragged and forced. He looked pale from the pain and loss of blood from the gashes on his back. On your nearing, he made no move to even protect himself, almost resigned to death. 

"Make it quick," he snarled at you in a last attempt at bravado and ignorant to your true identity. But in a low, almost inaudible whisper to himself, "Forgive me, my love, my Hermione." 

Those were his last words before his chest ceased its rhythmic rise and fall. You could only return to your human form and weep for the love you had never felt and love you would never give. 

A/N: Thoughts, comments, criticism? Reviews are always welcome...

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